Page 17 of Thorns & Fire
‘You’re a Warsword,’ she said quietly, surveying the armband around his bicep: three crossed swords that marked him as one of the most elite warriors in the midrealms.
‘Did the giant war hammer not give it away?’he mused, nodding towards his weapon lying on the ground nearby.
‘The arrogance should have,’ she replied, not bothering to look up as she cleaned his wound.
A surprised laugh burst from him.‘I suppose we deserve that reputation.’
‘Among others.’The woman did look up then, her gaze shifting from his golden hair to his war hammer on the ground.Her expression was guarded.He saw none of the awe that usually accompanied the recognition of who he was.
‘You’re the one they call the Bear Slayer,’ she surmised.
‘Guilty.’He gave her a winning smile.‘Or Torj, if we’re friendly.’
‘We’re not.’
Oh, he liked her.He liked her a lot.Finally, a sparring partner worthy of a round or two.Still smiling, he waited until she locked eyes with him once more.‘And what do they call you?’
It had been a slow cascade of feeling, even then, one that he’d forced away, knowing that she was so much younger than him.But every time he’d glimpsed the fiery alchemist since that first meeting, his breath had caught.He’d found excuses to visit the workshops, hoping to run into her, fascinated by her no-nonsense attitude, by her sharp tongue and, yes, by her beauty.
He’d learned that she was one of the orphans of Thezmarr, the younger sister to another alchemist who was often found in the infirmary, dubbed a troublemaker among the women.Back then,Torj had made a passing comment to Audra that perhaps she had the sisters mixed up.The librarian had simply stared at him.
Now, Torj finished with the cleaning aid and rested his hammer against the bedside table with a sigh.He was forever living in the past, it seemed.Soul bonded.
He’d had someone –theone – who fate itself had chosen for him, and he’d had to let her go.The agony went beyond the wound that had sealed over his chest, beyond the moment of tearing the thread between them in two.No, the pain was a part of him now, and he knew in his bones that it always would be.
Already dreading the dawn, he turned to the window, opening it so the crisp air could hit his face.Only the glow of the tavern’s torches spilled onto the street below, leaving the rest of the world dark – dark but for the lone strike of lightning that illuminated the horizon, calling out to him like a song.
CHAPTER 6
Wren
‘Healing isn’t an act–it’s an essence.It flows not from what we do, but from who we are’
– Alchemy of Afflictions
THE STORM ROLLEDin as they disembarked from theSea Serpent’s Destinyand Wren shifted uneasily as her magic tried to respond in kind.Sparks of lightning formed at her fingertips, and she shoved her hands in her pockets to hide them from the others.
The south-east dock of Settler’s Port was bustling.The evening markets were already in full swing, with a variety of stalls lined up along the shore front despite the conditions.Wren pulled her hood up over her hair and squinted through the rain.
Thea nudged her.‘Stop it,’ she hissed, jutting her chin towards the dark clouds closing in.
‘Ican’t,’ Wren shot back, her magic crackling unhelpfully beneath her skin.
‘That’s a problem.You know that, right?’Thea made a noise of frustration, then shouldered her pack with a grimace.
Wren clenched her jaw before biting back, ‘Add it to the list, Thee.’
As their feet touched solid ground for the first time in days, Kipp squeezed between Wren and Thea, throwing his long arms around their shoulders.He winked at Dessa, who was overseeing the unloading of their horses.‘I’d say we’ve got time for a tipple at the Fox, right?’
Wren laughed hoarsely; she’d anticipated this exact moment.‘Sorry to disappoint, Kristopher, but we’re on a tight schedule.By the time we get the horses—’
‘We can wait at the Fox!’he interjected.
Thea also shook her head.‘Not tonight.We need to stock up on supplies before heading out.’
‘The Laughing Fox hasplentyof supplies,’ he countered.
Wren rolled her eyes.‘We can’t survive on sour mead for a week—’
